In Her Eyes (A Whouffle Fanfiction)
by WhouffleGirl96
Summary: Whouffle. Be prepared to be punched in the feels.
1. Chapter 1

One moment she was standing there, chestnut hair tumbling down her back, eyes twinkling, a half-amused smile on her face as he darted around the console twiddling dials and pulling levers saying any old nonsense at her, just to hear her laugh. Then she was gone. There. Gone. There. Gone.  
"Clara?" The Doctor called to the now empty console room, panicked. No answer. _Well of course there wouldn't be, she isn't here._He thought to himself sadly, taking out the sonic and scanning the area where she had been. He checked the results carefully, not wanting to miss anything that could lead him to her. To Clara.  
The Doctor frowned at the sonic, not able to get a clear reading. He tapped it impatiently against his palm and scanned again, this time with a bit more luck.

"So she was taken by teleport...an advanced time vortex manipulator, maybe?" He mused to himself. The Doctor's hearts sank. Vortex manipulators can be very hard to track. Very, very, _very,_hard. Clara could be anywhere, with anyone...she might even be dead. The Doctor angrily plugged the sonic into the TARDIS, uploading the information into the TARDIS database. _Don't think like that Doctor,_he berated himself, _Clara is_not _dead. Not on my watch._  
The TARDIS console beeped. The Doctor swung the screen towards him, eyes searching frantically for any clues to her whereabouts. _There._A set of coordinates for Polaris Spaceport, the Taxhyon galaxy. What on Earth is she doing there?  
Not wanting to waste any more time he set the coordinates, fingers flying over the controls. "I'm coming for you Clara." He whispered to the empty room. The Doctor threw a lever, sending the TARDIS spinning into the time vortex.

"I promise."  
*****************************

Clara was strapped in a padded chair, metal cuffs chafing her wrists and ankles making her shiver with cold. She had woken up a few moments ago to find herself in a plain white room like a cell, with no TARDIS, no Doctor, and no means of escape. Not even a window for her to squeeze out of. As a result, she wasn't in the best of moods. At all.

"Doctor?" Clara croaked, her voice dry and raspy. How long had she been out for? Not that long, surely, or the Doctor would be here by now. Wouldn't he? She begins to panic, straining against the cuffs that mercilessly held her in place.

"Doctor! DOCTOR!" Clara all but screamed into the suffocating silence that filled her cell. No answer. He can't have left her. He must be around here somewhere. Clara looked hopefully at the doot opposite, wishing that the Doctor would sonic it open and bounce in, all flailing limbs and floppy fringe. He didn't, so she resorted to calling his name again, her voice getting hoarser with every attempt.

"I'm afraid your precious Doctor can't hear you, Miss Oswald. Although this would be much more fun if he could." A slick man in his forties rounds Clara's chair, his polished shoes reflecting her face as they clicked on the tiled floor. Clara stopped yelling and eyed him warily, her gaze following him as he walked to the front of her chair and stood there, leering at her.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Clara refused to be intimidated by this man. It was what he wanted, and she'd be damned if she was going to give him that.

The man cocked his head to one side, a small smile spreading across his thin face. "So brave. So determined. But then again, all of his women are."

Clara ignored the dig and strained against her bonds once more, squirming in a futile attempt to escape them. The man watched her amusedly, chuckling slightly at her.

"You really think I'm going to let you go after all the time and trouble I took to get you?" He crouches down in front of her so that they were eye to eye and taps the cuffs.

"I had these made special. The Doctor's companion deserves quality, me thought. After all, she's going to be here for a while."

Clara fights harder, the chair lifting from the floor slightly from the force of her struggling. She needed to get out of this place, wherever she was. Fast. She didn't like the looks this guy was giving her. He was the sort of person that, if you met them in the street, you would cross the road to avoid. The sort that the teachers at her secondary school would warn you about. Clara shrinked back as he placed his hands on her wrists and applies pressure, effectively stopping the chair from rocking. She slumped back in her seat as far as she could and glanced torwards the door once more, holding onto the hope of the Doctor.

"He's not coming girly. Not yet. Not until it's too late, anyway." He shrugged. "Sorry," he said, looking genuinely apologetic. "Just doing my job."

_He's not coming. He's right. _Clara tried to hold back the tears, not wanting the man to see that he had gotten to her, but she couldn't. She looked down at the floor to hide the tears that streaked down her face but couldn't quite conceal the shake in her shoulders and the tiny sobs that escaped her. _After all this time, after everything we've done for each other, he's just going to leave me here. To die, alone, with a complete creep. _

The man, noticing her despair , pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled Clara forward until his lips were resting by her ear. Clara no longer bothered to resist. She had been robbed of all hope, all faith in the Doctor. There was no longer any fight left.

"Maybe you should chose who to fall in love with more carefully next time, hmm?" the man whispered, his breath tickling Clara's ear. He released her and she fell back into her chair with a soft _thump_, her eyes staring at a patch of wall somewhere above his head. Clara no longer cared what he did do her. All she could think about was the Doctor, and how he had abandoned her when she needed him the most.

The man pushed himself back to his feet and rubbed his hands together. "Enough of this. Let's get on with things, shall we?"

He produced a hankerchief from his pocket and pressed it against her nose and mouth, holding it there tightly, expecting a struggle. To his surprise Clara just sat there staring and let the drugs take her, listening, listening for the sound of Doctor's voice calling her or the TARDIS materilizing. Sounds that never came.

**A/N**

**Hello and welcome to Jasmine's magical world of Whouffle! Firstly I would like to apologise in advance for the emotional wreck that I am about to become while writing this story. I ship Whouffle so much, and I'm planning a plot that will probably bring on a lot of feels as it goes on. Oh man. It's a downward spiral from here. Anyway, I'm new on here (literally just joined) and any constructive critism is welcome.**

**Also for those of you on Wattpad, this is WhovianInSpace96. Don't panic I haven't nicked the story. **

**Please R&R :) **

**Jazz xx**


	2. Chapter 2-The Game

he Doctor sprinted down the corridor, his long legs stretching farther and moving faster than he had ever thought possible. Every so often he would stop, break into a room, take a frantic look around and then resume his headlong rush through the maze of clinical passages and holding areas that made up the Testing Facility at Taxhyon Spaceport. She had to be here somewhere, had to be. The Doctor tried not to think about the possibility of Clara dying him being too late to save her, Clara being captured and subjected to some kind of torture because of something he had done. The possibilities were endless, and each scenario played itself with such clarity in his mind that the Doctor felt tears begin to form in his eyes and his chest tighten with every image. He couldn't lose Clara. Not like this.

The corridor ended and the Doctor cursed as he found himself in a crossroads where four of the corridors met. He span on the spot, the tails of his tweed coat flapping, looking for clues. Nothing. He came to a halt, despair and grief creeping their way across his face. The Doctor was completely and utterly lost; in a maze, in grief, in love with a woman he now feared he would never see again. He squeezed his eyelids shut, suppressing the salty tears that were threatening to fall. He would find her. Even if it took every last breath in his body, he would find her. And woe betide anybody who was stupid enough to stand in his way.  
"Oh, Doctor." A voice boomed from above. "I never knew you were the sentimental type. Of course, I had my suspicions, but you do have quite a 'thing' for Miss Oswald, don't you?"

The Doctor opened his eyes slowly. A solitary tear escaped from one of his eyelids as he did so, curving down his face and falling to the carpeted floor.  
"What have you done with Clara?" He growled at the speaker in the ceiling, pure unadulterated hate coursing through his veins, replacing his earlier sorrow. He's surprised and slightly scared at just how angry he is. He hasn't felt anything like this since, well, the Time War, and the fact that an ordinary human girl can take him to the same extremes of emotion as a full blown war unsettles him. Whatever had happened to the man who had retreated to a cloud to avoid situations like these?  
_Clara Oswin Oswald, that's what. _  
The voice tutted at the Doctor, snapping him out of his thoughts.  
"I see your manners have not improved with age, Doctor. Never mind. Let me lay down some rules for the game we're about to play, hmm?"  
"Game?" asked the Doctor. That voice. It was strangely familiar, but the Doctor couldn't quite put his finger on it.  
"Why yes Doctor, a _game. _How about...hide and seek? I know that you love those sorts of games. After all you did play one with me, all those years ago. And this time the stakes are even higher. And the prize is so very..._precious._" The voice was smug, revelling in the Doctors ignorance. The man himself gritted his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists hanging at his sides.  
"Never." The Doctor spat. He wanted to draw this conversation to a close so he could gather his scattered thoughts and continue his search. The voice, however, had other ideas.  
"Oh, this is too _good._ Did you hear that, girly? The Doctor doesn't want you anymore. Girly?"  
There's a moments silence punctuated only by a quickly stifled sob. The Doctor could almost hear both his hearts breaking.  
_Clara. _  
"Anyway," the voice carried on cheerfully, "it's time I laid down those rules, hmm?"  
The Doctor didn't answer. He was staring at the speaker with a glare that would have made even the most psychopathic Dalek tremble in it's casing.  
"Yes, I think it is." The voice said after realising that the Doctor wasn't about to answer anytime soon. "Rule number one: You may not use the sonic screwdriver. If I hear even the tiniest of buzzes, I will kill the girl, as pretty as she is right now."  
"If you lay so much as a finger on her..." the Doctor warned, eyes flashing dangerously.  
"You'd better abide by the rules then Doctor. What happens to her will be down to you. So listen carefully, because rule number two is up next."The voice clears its throat.  
"Rule number two: You may not use the TARDIS. If she moves so much as an inch from her current position, I will kill Clara. In fact, if you do anything at all that I don't like the look of, I will kill her. Got it?"  
The Doctor nodded reluctantly. "Yes." he muttered softly. He didn't like this 'game' one bit, but if he didn't go along with this lunatic he had no doubt that both him and Clara would wind up dead. He wasn't concerned for himself so much for Clara; he blamed himself for her being here. The moment he found her again, the Doctor decided, he was taking her home. As much as it would hurt him to leave her behind, the consequences would be much worse if Clara was to continue travelling with him. It was for the best.  
"Excellent." the Doctor could almost hear the owner of the voice rubbing his hands together with glee. "You have ten minutes to find us. Better start running, hmm?"


	3. Chapter 3- So Close, Yet So Far

he speaker faded to static. The Doctor quickly searched the corridor for clues but came up empty-handed.

"Come on Clara, need a little help here." He whispered urgently to the empty passageway. He began to pace, hyper aware of the seconds that were ticking away. If he was Clara, what would he have done? She wasn't the type to just stand around while being kidnapped. She would fight, hard. The Doctor imagined her being dragged away, her fists and feet lashing out at random in the hope that a stray slap or kick might land and she could tear herself away from her captors. Now what if, _what if, _one of these blows had connected with one of the walls and left a mark? The tiniest of imprints that, at first glance, could be easily overlooked by somebody who wasn't specifically searching for it. The Doctor popped on Amy's reading glasses, looking at the crossroads with fresh eyes. His vision slid from wall to wall until-

Bingo.

Halfway down the corridor directly in front of the Doctor, at knee height, was a faint muddy print left by Clara's boot. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief and ran towards it, pocketing the glasses as he does so. Now he's found the first clue to Clara's whereabouts actually finding her should, in theory, be fairly straightforward. All he had to do was follow the trail that she had left for him. Simple. But the Doctor had a niggling feeling at the back of his head that it wasn't going to be that easy.

Clara watched through heavy lidded eyes as the man sauntered into her cell waving a remote at her.

"Good morning, Miss Oswald. And how are you today?" he asked brightly, pressing a button on the remote. A section of the wall in front of Clara began to slide into the ground.

"Mmrph urgh uff ruff." Clara said angrily, her voice muffled by the rope gag that was stuffed in her mouth.

"Just a moment." The man rummaged in his pockets, whipping out a pen knife and cutting through Clara's gag.

"What did you say again?" He asked casually, running one finger over the blade of the knife emphasising it's razor sharp edge. Clara either hadn't noticed or didn't care, because she fixed him with one of her steeliest glares.

"I said, just you wait until the Doctor comes for me you little-"

The man jumped up from his chair so suddenly that Clara barely had time to register it happening before he grabbed a fistful of her hair, shoving her head back and pressing his knife to her throat. Clara's heart thumped in her chest and her fee scrabbled the floor for footing.

"Be very careful what you say to me, girl." He hissed in her face. "I may enjoy your company, but please remember that you are a hostage and I can to whatever I want to you." He cocks his head to one side, tracing her facial features idly with his knife.

"It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face. Such a waste of youth."

Clara sat as still as possible and clamped her mouth shut. Now was not the time for a witty comeback, no matter his badly she wanted to give one. She had no doubt that, if given an excuse, the man would not hesitate to do more with that knife than just wave it about.

Turning away from her kidnapper, Clara diverted her attention from the man and back to the wall, which had now stopped sliding to reveal a flat screened TV. The Man removed his knife from her face and grinned down at her. From crazy murdererous lunatic to over excited schoolboy in less than a minute.

"Like it?"

Clara shrugged, trying to get her still pounding heart to calm down to its usual rate.

"Its alright."

The man tutted then turned it on and flicked down the channels, which, Clara realised, were all live feeds from security cameras.

"You'll love it in a minute." The man promised her, pausing at a particular channel and winking at her before selecting it. Clara threw him the 'don't-mess-with-me' look which she usually saved for Angie then directed her attention back to the TV screen. Her heart leapt in her chest when she saw the Doctor haring through the passageways. He was coming for her. Not that she hadn't thought that he wouldn't, but when you're locked in one room with a psychopath for too long you do begin to question what's real and what isn't. Clara gazed at the screen, drinking in the wholeness of the Doctor, the very sight of him beginning to chase away the loneliness and abandonment she had felt. He was here, he was coming. She wouldn't be stuck here for much longer. Her smile grew even wider when she realised how close he was to finding her. How long had it taken him to get this far? Five minutes at the most, surely. The smile that had appeared on her face disappeared. This was too easy. If the man, whoever he was, had fought the Doctor before, he must know that a maze, however complex it may be, wouldn't stop him for long. What was he playing at?

She glanced up at the man, who was now leaning against her chair with his arms folded, a smug smile on his face. There was something else going on here, and Clara didn't like it one bit.

Back in the never-ending corridors of the Testing Facility the Doctor was having much the same thoughts as Clara. Even without the sonic and the TARDIS he was finding it much too easy to find her. Her trail, though hard to find and even harder to follow, was too obvious for it to have been overlooked by the man, whoever he is. Something sinister was going on here. The Doctor could only hope that he would reach Clara before the man could implement the rest of his twisted game.  
The Doctor ran on for a few more metres until he realised that Clara's trail had gone cold. He doubled back, fighting the rising tide of panic that was threatening to submerge him, and found the last clue that he had seen before he lost it. The Doctor used up one if his precious minutes to comb the corridor, right up to the dead end at the bottom.

Nothing.

Not even a hint, the slightest trace, of Clara anywhere. In a rare moment of fury the Doctor punched the wall with all the force he could muster, barely noticing the pain that lanced through his knuckles and the hollow ring that echoed through the passage. He had come so close to finding her.

So

_Punch_

Damn

_Punch_

Close

_Kick_

The Doctor blinked with surprise as his foot punctured the wall, flying in so far that by the time the Doctor managed to stop his forward momentum he was in the wall up to his thigh.

"D-D-D-Doctor?" A voice, weak and tired but full of hope, floated through the hole. His hearts lifting the Doctor wiggled his foot out of the hole and pressed his face against it instead.

"Clara?"

The brunette lifted her head, hair falling away to reveal a cloth gag which had just been shoved roughly back into place. Behind her the man fiddled with something on a trolley.

Clara's eyes widened when she saw the Doctor and she began to wrestle with the cuffs on her chair, causing the chair to squeak loudly. The Doctor placed one finger against his lips, signalling for her to be quiet. He needed to get her out of her cell stealthily so her captors wouldn't notice her leaving.

Clara quietened down, trusting the Doctor to come up with a plan to get them out of there alive. She still reckoned that this was all a trap, but as to what it was and why the man was doing it she hadn't the foggiest idea. That was until the man turned from the trolley and grabbed hold of her arm, twisting it so the underside was showing and dabbing it with a piece of cotton wool. She looked between it and the man until it finally clicked.

He was prepping her for an injection.

Clara was strapped down and very effectively gagged, so she did the only thing she could to get the Doctor's attention: scream.

She filled her lungs with as much air as they could take without bursting and let off the loudest, glass shattering scream she had ever done.

Needless to say, it definitely got the Doctor's full attention.

His head popped back through the wall and, upon seeing Clara's predicament, abandoned any thoughts of being subtle. He had to get to Clara as quickly as possible before anything happened to her that he couldn't fix. The Doctor backed up against the opposite wall, cracking his neck from side to side.

"Geronimo."

**Sorry its taken me so long to update. As an apology, I'm gonna post three chapters in three days, starting today. :) Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4- I've Got You

Clara was only vaguely aware of the huge crash to her right, the rubble and dust that cascaded into the cell. All her focus was on the needle that had been pushed into her skin, the cold liquid that was being pumped through her veins as the plunger ruthlessly forced it in. Her vision became blurry and her head spun.

"Clara? Clara! Clara, can you hear me?"

A pair of hands held her face gently but firmly, one thumb stroking her cheek, soothing her. Clara focused on the person kneeling in front of her and the Doctor's familiar features swam into view. He smiled gently at her, but there's a cold anger in his eyes as one of his hands left her cheek to untie the gag in her mouth. As soon as it's gone she leans down and plants a somewhat sloppy kiss on his cheek, her distracted state making it hard for her to control her actions. Nevertheless the Doctor blushed as he fished around in his jacket for the sonic, causing Clara to smirk lazily at him.

"You came back for me." She half whispered, voice slurred.

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?"

He pointed the sonic at her cuffs and they snapped open. The Doctor helped Clara up but after one step she fell into his arms, clutching at the lapels of his tweed jacket as her weak limbs folded underneath her. The Doctor swept her up into his arms and she snugggled a little into his chest.

"I dunno." The Doctor felt her shrug. "I'm just a ghost, remember?"

The Doctor frowned. She didn't really still believe that, did she? To him Clara was anything but a ghost. She was everything to him, a vibrant streak of colour in his world of grey that will never dull, never, ever, ever fade to black, even when she was gone. Oh she may leave him, or even die, but he would never forget her. One of his hearts will always belong to her.

The Doctor leaned down slightly, making sure he had Clara's full attention before he spoke.

"Clara Oswald," he started, voice thick with emotion. "Don't you ever, ever, think that again. You are so much more to me than just a ghost."

"Really?" she asked him in a small voice, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

"Really." He confirmed. The Doctor took a deep breath, figuring that as he had already gone this far he might as well throw caution to the wind and go the whole way.

"You are my everything. Without you I would be nothing, a hollowed out, empty shell of the man I am today. The man _you _made me, Clara. You're no ghost. You're the Impossible Girl, the woman who sacrificed herself millions of times over just to save me. Me. A daft old Timelord with a Snog-Box."

Clara's lips twitched up into a smile at the mention of her nickname for the TARDIS. Her eyes flicked across his face, searching for any sign that what he was saying was true.

"Trust me when I say this, Clara. I will always save you. No matter his far apart we are, how desperate the situation is, I will find you, and I will save you. Never forget that."

They both found themselves leaning in, Clara's eyes fluttering closed and her stomach tightening in anticipation. Their lips were just millimetres from touching when the Doctor pulled back, sniffing at the air.

"Clara, do you smell burning?" asked the Doctor while poking his tongue out and tasting the air.

"What?" Clara reopened her eyes, disorientated by a combination of the toxins spreading through her body and the prospect that she had almost kissed the Doctor.

"I said, 'Can you smell-'"

"I heard what you said, Doctor." Clara interrupted. "What I meant was-"

The Doctor hushed her, pressing one finger against her lips to keep them shut. For a moment he looked on the verge of saying something to her about, you know, _the almost kiss, _but decided against it.

"Something's on fire," he whispered to cover up. Clara glared up him. They had come so close- _so close_- to kissing, and he was acting until nothing had happened. She was not happy.

"Doctor, you can't just..." her voice trailed off as she noticed a wisp of smoke curling from his outer pocket.

"What? I can't just what?"

When Clara didn't respond the Doctor followed her line of eyesight, eyebrows raising on surprise when he saw the smoke coming from his pocket.

"Oh."

The Doctor reluctantly unwrapped one arm from around Clara, leaving her clinging to his neck by her arms with his other arm supporting her knees, and gingerley poked his hand into the pocket, wincing and gasping when his fingertips came into contact with scorching hot metal. He flicked the object out of his pocket before it could cause any more damage and extinguished the flames with his hand.

Clara squinted through the smoke at the object. She didn't know if it was the chemicals in the smoke or her, but her chest seemed to be getting tighter with every passing second.

"Is that the TARDIS key?" Clara asked as the Doctor slipped his arm back to it's previous position around her.

"Seems like it. The TARDIS is trying to get to us, but someone or something is holding her back..."

The Doctor glanced down at Clara who was beginning to struggle to breathe.

"Are you alright?"

_Vworp_

The outline of the TARDIS appeared fleetingly around the Doctor and Clara then faded. Clara's head was spinning and every single bone in her body was as stiff as a board, pain lancing up and down her small frame.

"Clara? Can you hear me?"

Much to the Doctor's concern she doesn't respond, her eyes rolling in their sockets and her head killing backwards.

_Vworp_

The TARDIS stays for longer this time, enveloping the Doctor and Clara for a second or two before vanishing. The Doctor shook Clara, desperately trying to get her to open her eyes. She mumbled fitfully, burying her face into the crook of his elbow.

"Clara. CLARA!"

_Vworp Vworp Vworp_

The TARDIS materialised around them fully, completely encasing the Doctor and Clara within her walls. She materialised quickly, but not quite quick enough to hide Clara's convulsing and shaking from the lone security camera that watched silently from above.


	5. Chapter 5- Wake Up

The Doctor watched Clara as she slept in the Med Bay, listening to the sound of her breathing into the oxygen mask strapped to her face and the steady thrum of the machinery that was keeping her alive. Every so often her breath would hitch or the beeping of the heart monitor would falter and the Doctor would leap up, book falling to the floor, and rush to her aid only to discover that it was a false alarm. He would return to his seat, but only after he had double checked the readings from the various equipment scattered across the room and made sure that Clara was as comfortable as possible; re-tucking the duvet under her chin and refreshing the wet cloth on her forehead in an attempt to bring down her burning temperature. She had been through a lot that day, and the Doctor wanted her to rest for as long as possible to give her body ample time to heal and rejuvinate itself, to fight the illness that she had come down with. Because that was all it was, the Doctor told himself. A minor illness that, with lots of love and care, Clara would soon get over. Nothing to worry about. A few days on bed rest and she'd be right as rain in no time, and then they'd get back to travelling the universe. There were still civilisations to save and countless stars for him to show her. A hundred and one places left to see.

The Doctor sighed, reaching out a hand to run his fingers through Clara's hair, an action he wouldn't have dared to do if she was conscious for fear of being mercilessly teased.

"You can do it Clara." He mumbled. "Fight it for me. Come on. _Please._"

Clara groaned and shifted in her sleep, face subconsciously nuzzling into the Doctor's touch. He froze, hardly daring to breathe. _Was she waking up?_

The Doctor stared at her intently but when nothing happened he removed his hand from her silky hair and placed his face in them instead, letting out a long, shakey breath that he hadn't known he was holding. It wasn't in his nature for him to sit around so long, not even for Clara, and it was making him jumpy. He needed to get out, go somewhere, do something. He felt so helpless. He wanted to help Clara, but how?

He sat there, consumed by his own thoughts. She looked so peaceful; chestnut hair splayed out on the pillows under her head, nose wrinkling at something in her sleep. He smiled down at her. He never saw Clara as vulnerable as when she was sleeping. A sudden urge to protect her coursed through him. He would do anything, _anything, _to cure her, to stop her from ageing, to capture who she is at this moment and have her stay like it forever, his Impossible Girl. But she was only human, and like all humans will one day whither and die and he would be alone again, wandering in a universe that would hold no joy for him, no meaning, only serving as a reminder to all that he had lost.

He hadn't lost Clara yet, though. Not if he could help it.

Struck by an idea the Doctor removed his hand from where it was stroking Clara's cheek and rummaged through his pockets, unearthing a roll of sellotape, a ball of string, a banana and a barbie doll before triumphantly pulling out a notebook and a pen. He hastily scribbled a note to Clara explaining where he was going and not to worry, ripping it out and sellotaping it to the side of the dish that held the souffle he had made for her earlier as a surprise for her when she woke up.

"I'll be back." He promised her, stuffing the various contraband back into his jacket. He took one last look at her sleeping form before quietly leaving the room, locking the door behind him. He didn't want to come back to an empty Med Bay and an angry Clara lost in the TARDIS.

The Doctor jogged to the console room, leaping up the steps two at a time to where he could flick on the view screen and use the security camera in the Med Bay to keep an eye on Clara. The lighting in the console room was down low as any unimportant systems had been turned off to re-route more power to the life support system that was keeping Clara alive. Not that she really needed it, the Doctor was just being cautious. When it came to Clara he would take no chances.

Reassured by the live feed of Clara the Doctor sent the TARDIS spinning into flight, his long fingers nimbly navigating the many switches, dials and levers that coated the surfaces. He flew the TARDIS a little slower than usual so as not to disturb Clara. Although he was looking forward to her waking he wanted it to be because her body and mind had healed properly, not because the TARDIS had flung her out of bed. That, and he wanted to be there when she woke up. For medical purposes only, of course. Only now his brain was giving him images of Clara when she woke up in the mornings, with the bed hair that she hated but he secretly loved, the sleepy little smile and the adorable look that she'd give him before she realised she was doing it.

Not to mention the tiny pajamas she liked to wear.

The Doctor mentally and physically slapped himself. _Stop thinking about Clara like that, _he scolded himself. _She doesn't think of you like that. Why would she?_

The Doctor landed the TARDIS, trying to shove those thoughts of Clara aside, but the memory of her leaning in to kiss him seemed be imprinted across his vision. If she didn't love him, then why had she looked so happy when she moved towards him? The Doctor had an excellent memory, and he doubted that that one was ever going to be erased. The way her heart had thumped as she pressed it against his own, her chocolate eyes that he loved so much shut, her full red lips parted-

The TARDIS let off an unnecessarily loud hum, jolting the Doctor out of his thoughts and promptly tripping over his feet on surprise, bashing a leg against the edge of the console.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!" He moaned rubbing his shin. "What was that for?"

The TARDIS stared down at him. The Doctor could almost feel the dissaproval burning holes in his head. He had forgotten that the TARDIS was telepathic.

"Yeah, yeah, I know old girl. Rule number one-Don't fall in love. Bit too late now though, eh? She's got me."

The TARDIS made a noise half between amusement and exasperation.

"Sorry, Sexy." He leaned against the console, watching Clara's breath mist in her mask. "I thought you liked her?"

The TARDIS hummed in agreement. Ever since Trenzalore the Type 40 had had a newfound respect for his companion and the two, after a shakey start, had become firm friends much to the Doctor's delight. Clara could even click her fingers to make the doors open and shut, something none of his companions, not even River, could achieve.

The Doctor smiled and patted the time rotors. "You take care of her while I'm gone Sexy. No tricks." He warned. Despite their friendship, the TARDIS still liked to wind her up every so often. Clara was just as bad though, messing with the decor and deliberately shaking her umbrella everywhere. It had become a sort of game to them, that the TARDIS usually won.

The TARDIS's humming went up a pitch.

"Thanks old girl."

The Doctor turned to leave but was stopped by a pricking sensation at the nape of his neck.

"What? What is it?"

A test tube slid out of the panel on the far side of the console. The Doctor reached over and plucked it out of the socket, weighing it in his hand before tucking it safely away in the depths of his coat. He stroked the console fondly.

"What would I do without you, eh?"

With that the Doctor turned on his heel and left, pausing at the doors for one last fleeting look at Clara before stepping out into the unknown.


	6. Chapter 6- Hopeless

Clara woke up slowly, eyes gradually adjusting to the dim lighting. She pulled herself into a sitting position and stretched feeling her muscles pop and crack, wincing as her battered and bruised body screamed protest at her sudden movements. She felt like death. But at least she was alive.

Too tired to move just yet, or to question why she was hooked up to so many machines, Clara let her gaze wander around the room, fingers scratching at the straps of her oxygen mask as her eyes landed on the partially charred soufflé the Doctor had baked for her. She grinned, reaching out an arm to pluck the note off the side of the dish. The fact that the Doctor had taken the time to attempt a soufflé, charred as it was, made her feel ridiculously happy. A warm glow spread through her, gently heating her body from her chest right the way down to the roots of her hair and the tips of her toes. She knew it was madness to think that the Doctor had baked it because he loved her, he only viewed her as a friend, but...the gesture made her feel loved, and nobody had made her feel like that for a long time.

_Oh, you clever boy._

She eagerly dug into the soufflé, taking extra care to avoid the sections that were burnt beyond recognition. With one hand she unfolded the note, recognising the Doctor's untidy scrawl, and loaded up the spoon with another morsel as she began to read.

_Clara,_

_I've gone to New New New New Earth. Don't worry, I'm coming back. I'm going to find you a cure for whatever it is that that monster injected into you._

Clara began to tremble at the memory. She would forever live in fear of the man returning to finish her off. She took a deep breath through her mask and shovelled in another bite to calm herself before continuing.

_I won't be long, I promise. Two hours tops. Do not, under any circumstances, disconnect yourself from your life support machine. Even if a thousand Daleks are banging down the door. I can defeat Daleks. I can't bring you back to life._

_Stay safe._

_Love,_

_The Doctor._

_P.S Hope you liked the soufflé._

Clara finished off the soufflé then placed it and the note on her bedside table. What was she to do for two whole hours? It's not like she could explore the TARDIS like she usually would, not in the state she was in with all the tubes connecting her to the life support system. She was weak; the simple action of eating the soufflé had taken it out of her. No, she needed to find something else to do.

Clara yawned loudly, rolling onto her side facing the machinery that was looking after her. It was so peaceful lying here in the TARDIS, all alone. Normally it was chaos, fighting monsters, flirting and running around in heels that killed her feet after about ten steps. She knew that she should wear shoes that were a little more practical, but the Doctor was tall enough even _with _her wearing eight-inch heels. She sometimes felt like one of those Ompa-loompas, looking up at the Doctor like one of the tiny people would Willy Wonka. Small and insignificant against a man so tall and powerful and _alien _as him. A candle against his raging inferno.

Clara drifted off into sleep, finally succumbing to the various aches and pains that plagued her body. She had just begun to snore lightly when-

"Psst, Clara. Wake up, sleepy head." A familiar voice half sang next to her.

Clara started awake, gaping at the figure standing next to her.

"_Doctor?_" She asked incredilously. In the back of her mind alarm bells began to ring. He wasn't supposed to be back for at least an hour yet.

"The very same." Replied the Doctor, throwing her a cheeky wink. Clara froze, her hands outstretched towards him for a hug. Something was wrong. The Doctor almost never winked. Well, not usually; it was only when he wanted her to do something completely insane like distract a horde of angry Slitheen or to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. Which, on reflection, happened quite a lot.

Clara's arms fell to her sides and she frowned. She was neither in danger nor in need of reassurance. So why was he winking?

Then it hit her.

This wasn't the Doctor.

Clara could only watch in horror as 'the Doctor's' skin melted like wax, revealing a face that she had hoped never to see again.

"Hello again girly. Did you miss me?"

***  
The Doctor paced back and forth in the waiting room restlessly, wringing his hands. How long had the doctor said she'd be? Fifteen minutes. He impatiently flicked his wrist up, checking the time on his watch. The Doctor didn't trust hospital clocks. They were always either a few minutes fast, an hour behind or not working. Useless things. You would think that, as it was the 50th Century, humans would be able to make decent clocks. Evidently not.

Twenty minutes and twelve seconds. _That's the human race for you, _grumbled the Doctor to himself._They tell you one time then turn up an hour late. Or four, _he noted, glancing at the clock on the wall, _if you use their sad excuses for clocks. At least Clara's always on time._

The Doctor was about to go and find Doctor Whyatt himself when the woman herself bursted through the door panting and brandishing several sheets of papers covered in graphs and statistics.

_Clara's results. About time._

Doctor Kim Whyatt leant against the door frame, face flushed with exertion and several strands of dark blonde hair loose from her ponytail.

"Doctor!" She beckoned him over. "You need to see these."

Ignoring the confused and alarmed stares of his fellows the Doctor rushed to the door, snatching the results from Kim's fingers. He rifled through the various papers, reading faster than humanly possible, face becoming more and more grief stricken with every page he scanned.

_Oh, Clara..._

"That substance in the sample you gave us is unlike anything we've encountered," Kim began, bent over double to catch her breath. She had forgotten how hectic the Doctor could be. "Its composition is insane. No, more than insane- its downright _wrong. _Its almost as if somebody's thrown in every type of cancer, sickness bug, cold and flu and mixed them together to make one lethal virus. Just one drop of this stuff could potentially be fatal." Kim straightened up, smoothing the creases in her scrubs.

"What species is your friend, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Human," the Doctor murmured, not lifting his eyes from a passage on the final page. "Twenty-first century female. Called Clara."

Kim noticed his anguished expression when he said Clara's name and gently placed a hand on his tense forearm.

"We will help her Doctor. Not everything on that document is a hundred percent accurate. We can at least try to cure her."

The Doctor nodded, then shoved the papers under her nose, pointing to a single passage at the end.

"And this?" He demanded, "is this accurate? A hundred percent?"

Kim shifted uncomfortably under his accusing gaze. She hated seeing him like this, so agitated. And what she was about to say to him was going to whip him up into an even bigger frenzy.

"As far as we know...yes. But as I said earlier, this virus is unlike anything we've ever encountered. Things could-"

The Doctor had long since stopped listening. His fists tightened around the paper, tears blurring his vision.

_No. No. It won't happen. It _can't _happen._

He crumpled the paper and threw it into the bin with so much force it fell over, contents spilling across the floor earning him tuts from several people behind him. He ignored them. He needed to get back to Clara. He couldn't think properly what with all the noise and pain, physical and emotional, around him. He hated hospitals.

The Doctor went to barge out the door but Kim stopped him, placing a hand in his chest.

"You're upset." She stated. "I know I would be, if I were you."

The Doctor glared down at her and tried to pick her up to move her out of his way. One thought was replaying itself over and over in his head:

_Get back to Clara._

She was his medicine, a balm for every wound he had. He desperately needed another dose to ease the pain. Just holding her would be enough.

"Please Kim, let me go." He almost begged the woman in front of him. "I need her."

Kim rolled her eyes. "She's not a teddy bear, you love struck fool."

The Doctor pouted and she sighed.

"Ask her first, okay? The poor girl doesn't need you clinging on to her like an over sized Koala bear. Not in her state."

"Alright, alright. I'll ask. Its usually her that hugs me though," he added. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

Kim raised an eyebrow and gave him the look that only she could do. "Moving on swiftly," she said, "I have something for you." She pressed a paper bag into his hands. "These tablets should slow down the virus. She'll get better, for a while, but she might not be able to walk that well. If that happens, come to us and we'll get her a wheelchair. Got that?"

The Doctor nodded, mumbling his thanks as he tucked the bag away in his blazer.

"No problem. We'll phone you if theres any advances." Kim promised then removed her hand from his chest and stepped away from the door. The Doctor lurched away his now undistracted mind cruelly replaying the final sentence in the document.

_Chances of survival: Five percent._


	7. Chapter 7- Tell Him Who I Am

Clara's reaction to him was immediate. She scurried backwards on all fours as fast as she could, not stopping until she hit the head board with a loud bump. She drew her legs up to her chest, remembering the Doctor's note and checking that her oxygen mask and tubes were still functional from her sudden movement. She didn't once take her eyes off of the man as she did so, her skin a deathly pale in colour and hands shaking. After she was done she clasped them firmly around her knees to hide the tell-tale tremors of fear from him, but by the smirk on his face she could tell that he had already seen.

"You," Clara breathed through her mask, "what're you doing here? Come to finish me off?"

The man chuckled. "On the contrary, Miss Oswald. That's the last thing I would want to do. I just popped by to say hello."

Clara eyed him warily. He wanted something, she was sure of it. Why else would he risk showing his face in the TARDIS, right under the Doctor's nose?

"What do you want from me? You can't have come here for nothing." She demanded. The longer she stalled him for, the more likely it was that the Doctor would get back in time to stop him. She had to keep him talking.

The man laughed. "I don't want anything from you girly." He sat on her bed, the mattress dipping so they were closer together than Clara would have liked. She pushed herself as far away from him as she could, putting space between them while still close to her life support. She flinched as he laced his fingers behind his head and lay down, looking completely at ease. The TARDIS had always been a safe refuge for Clara, the one place that she could come to and forget about the real world and the stresses of life, lose herself in the Doctor's world. The man's presence was unnatural; a violation of the peace and order of what Clara considered to be her second home. She knew that after this experience ended she would never be able to step foot in the Med-Bay ever again. The room would be steeped in bad memories.

"Frankly, I'm disappointed by you Clara." The man said, unlacing one hand so he could inspect his finger nails.

"Disappointed?" Repeated Clara, hating how her voice shook when she spoke.

"Yes. After all, aren't you the woman that split yourself into thousands of copies to save the Doctor? The Woman Twice Dead. You left quite the mark on the universe. And now look at you. Brought down low by one man."

Clara shrugged. "I'm not a God." She told him, inwardly praying that the Doctor would turn up soon. The last thing she wanted was to be kidnapped again, and she had a nasty feeling that that was where this conversation was heading.

"Maybe not, but you're in love with one." He said seriously. Despite herself, Clara had to laugh. The Doctor? A God?

The man gave her a sideways look. "Oh, of course. He hasn't let you see what he's capable of. Doesn't want to frighten you. How very sweet, Doctor. How very _loving._"

Clara's laughter subsided at the man's menacing tone. Playtime was over. She glanced at the open doorway hopefully, but there was no Doctor. She was going to have to sit this one out, completely at the man's mercy. She broke out into a cold sweat just thinking about it.

Opposite her the man stands up, the mattress creaking as it reverted to its usual lumpy self.

"So Clara, I hope you enjoyed my visit. I certainly did." He flashed her a smile. "It was..._enlightening._"

Clara shrugged. "Can't say I feel the same way."

The man laughed. "You know, I admire you, Miss Oswald. I tie you to a chair, torment you, crush your hopes and dreams, scare the hell out of you whenever I come too close, and yet you still answer back and sass me. I can see why the Doctor travels with you. I would relish the challenge of breaking you."

Clara sat there, unsure what to say. She hadn't been expecting the man to compliment her, of all things. She had been prepared for insults, threats and possible kidnap. Not this. What game was he playing with her?

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly when the man suddenly turned, grabbing her elbows and slamming them into the head board. She bit her lip, suppressing a cry of pain as something was ripped from her arm.

"Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to do so. Shame. I would have _so _enjoyed watching you scream."

Clara shivered, at his words and his breath on her cheek. He was way too close for comfort, leaning over her like that. She twisted in his grip, trying to dislodge him, but he pressed his knee to her stomach, effectively stopping her.

He tuts. "Uh uh uh, girly. I have a little job for you before I go." He whispered into her ear, making Clara want to throw up.

"W-w-what?" She stuttered.

The man chuckled. "Not so cocky now, are we?"

Clara felt another tug at her elbow. What was he doing? Nothing good, she was sure.

"Your job is this: Tell him who I am."

_Is that all? _thought Clara, relieved. She had feared that it was going to be much worse. She began to pull away but he held her there firmly, not finished with her just yet.

"You tell him who I am, and watch as his face goes pale and he shakes with fear. You watch as your protector loses all hope, all reason, as he tries to defeat me. Because I will win. I win every game I play."

He finally released her, moving away slightly but not removing his knee from her stomach. Clara didn't know if it was her or his knee, but she was having trouble breathing again.

_What's wrong with me?_

The man watched her, his face smug as he leaned in one final time.

"I am always one step ahead, Clara. Tell him that, too."

"But...what's...your...name?" Clara panted.

"Oh, you already know."

"I...do...?"

The man kissed her on the cheek then leapt off her. Clara fought the urge to slap him.

"Oh yes. Good night girly." He waved jauntily, one hand full of tubes, before fiddling with a device on his arm and vanishing. At the last moment he threw them, landing in a heap on her lap. Clara gazed down at them, head swimming. _Where had he got them from? And why did he think she knew his name?_

Dots appeared in her vision as she sucked in air. _What had he done to her?_

She rubbed her sore elbow and her heart skipped several beats. She looked down at it to make sure and nearly forgot to breathe. In the crook of her arm, where there should have been drips supplying her body with the chemicals it needed to survive, was nothing save some Gallifreyan symbols.

He had ripped the tubes from her arm.

Clara panicked and her head spun, body falling backwards as it began to shut down. She was only half-aware of a man shouting her name in the far distance and a hand tenderly catching her head and lowering it back onto the pillows as she blacked out.


	8. Chapter 8-Don't Go

The Doctor drummed his fingers impatiently on his leg, one foot tapping an irregular beat on the tiled floor. He never once took his eyes off of the sleeping woman that was nestled under the duvet in front of him drinking in every detail; every smile, every frown, every sleepy mumble that she made. It wouldn't be long before she woke up, and he wanted to enjoy the ignorance on her features before he spoilt it. Should he really tell her what he had learnt? He had to. Clara would want to know. Even if he didn't tell her straight away she would wheedle it out of him one way or another and she'd no doubt be furious that he had kept something this big to himself. No, he would tell her the moment she woke up. She'd prefer it coming from him sooner rather than later. All too soon Clara began to stir, duvet rustling as her round face peeked out from within the folds of the fabric. "Hello, sleepy-head." He said warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the sight of her bedraggled hair and dopey expression. He could never stay depressed around her for long, her very presence enough to calm him, to soothe almost every wound he had. Not all, but most. There were some wounds that even Clara couldn't completely heal. The Doctor quickly slammed the door shut on the bad memories that were threatening to surface and instead watched her as she slowly blinked sleep out of her eyes. Even with her make-up smeared and red, puffy eyes she was still one of the most beautiful people he had ever clapped eyes on. "Did you miss me?" He reached out a hand to brush a few runaway strands of hair behind her hair but stops when he notices how terrified of him she looks; body shaking, arms crossed protectively over her chest a look both parts horror and fear etched into her features. She's afraid of me, he realised with a jolt. The Doctor raised his hands upwards, palms outward in the universal symbol for 'I surrender' and took a sneaky look at the bedside table where he had left the souffle. It was eaten, the note next to it read and re-folded neatly. Even if Clara hadn't seen them there was no reason for her to be acting like this. He had expected her to be angry for leaving her, not scared that he had come back. As much as Clara scared him when she was angry, the Doctor would prefer her to be like that than the crushing alternative that was in front of him. "Clara, it's me." The Doctor said slowly, extending one hand slowly like a vet would when approaching an injured animal to gain it's trust. "The Doctor." Clara flinched and recoiled from him, pulling the duvet right the way up to her chin. The Doctor was panicked and hurt. What had he done wrong? He had rescued her from the Testing Facility, definitely not a bad thing. Okay, so he had been a little too late to stop permanent damage from being done but he was doing everything in his power to make it up to her. Not for his own peace of mind, but for her's. Clara's life always came before his, no matter the situation. Her life was worth more to him than all of his put together. He returned his hands to his legs, rubbing them against the rough fabric of his trousers nervously. Across form him Clara pushed her hands into her hair and lodged them there tightly, gripping so hard that the Doctor swore he could hear a few of the roots ripping free of her scalp. "Please Clara. Tell me what's wrong," he begged, hands twisting awkwardly in his lap. He desperately wanted to pull her over to him and wrap her in a hug, but he knew that would just freak her out even more and make the situation worse. "What's wrong? Oh, you know what's wrong." Clara laughed bitterly inbetween sobs. She looked insane. "You kidnapped me, injected me with some drug...thingy, then just when I think I've finally escaped from you you waltz right back into my life impersonating one of the few people that I love-" The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat. Could she actually love him? He pushed the thought aside quickly. Now was not the time for this, not when Clara was collapsed in tears in front of him. She might not have meant love love anyway. She more than likely had meant it as a friend. What worried him more was who she was talking about. It sounded like the man had come back while he was gone, which would explain why Clara's tubes had been missing from her arm when he came back from the hospital. If he comes back here again, no, if he goes near Clara again, I won't be so merciful as I was last time we met. The Doctor silently promised. He knew who it was. It had been obvious from the first time they spoke through the sound system, but he'd been to intent on finding Clara to pay any attention. If he had, he might have just been able to get her out of the Facility unscathed. Yet another mistake to add to the very long list in his head. "-and you expect me to fall for it every time and do as you say! I'll tell him, I swear! Just leave me alone!" Clara's eyes met the Doctor's and his hearts shattered. She looked sad, scared, hopeless but still defiant, all at the same time. The urge to hold her and calm her down and to never let go was overwhelming, but instead he got to his knees on the floor. Begging her. Clara looked surprised for an instance but then replaced it with her 'I'm-really-not-impressed' look that the Doctor usually saw when he was trying to impress her. Which was often. "Change back. End this sick game." She demanded. "I can't." The Doctor replied softly, gazing into her eyes, inwardly admiring their size and shape. Clara held it for a second before looking past him at the dirty souffle dish on the side, eyes welling with tears. She opened her mouth to speak but the Doctor cut across her. He had a feeling that if he didn't he wouldn't get a word in edgeways. "I can't change Clara, because I am me. No funny business, I swear." After a moments hesitation he reached across and laid his hands on top of hers on the duvet. She tensed, but didn't pull away. "I'm sorry he got to you again. I was stupid, so stupid, to think that he wouldn't come for you. The TARDIS is only a small obstacle when it comes to him. This is all my fault, I'm sorry Clara." He shook his head ruefully, fingers tracing the faint lines in the soft skin of Clara's palms. "I took you with me to protect you and look what happened." He whispered. The Doctor felt physically sick about what he had let happen to her. But when he thought about it, deep down, he had always known that he would have ended up hurting her one way or another. Something like this always happens, the constant curse that he subjects all his friends to. Why? Because he was old, and selfish, and couldn't bear the thought of travelling alone. In a way it would have been much easier if he had ignored the enigma that was Clara Oswald and left her on Earth to live out her life happy, with friends, a constant job and maybe a family of her own one day. Sure, she had the job, but he had effectively ended the rest of her normal life the moment he asked her to travel with him. He would rather be dead by his grave on Trenzalore than subject her to this. Clara deserved better than what he could offer, however much she may deny it. But no, he had to whisk her away to see the universe and fling them headfirst into danger at every turn. He really hated himself sometimes. The Doctor had no idea he was crying until Clara wiped the tears away tenderly with her small, soft hands. Her expression was unreadable but the Doctor was pretty sure he had managed to convince her by the way she was erasing the rapidly falling tears with steady fingers, her breaths slow and calm through her mask. His Clara was back. They stayed silent for a few minutes, the only sounds being the beeping of the moniters and the occasional sob on the Doctor's part. Eventually the tears stopped and Clara removed her hands from his cheeks. The Doctor pouted and chased them with his own to place them back but she dodged out of his way with a small laugh, draping them over his shoulders instead. The Doctor laughed with her and grabbed ahold of her waist, pulling her as close to him as the tubes would allow, her feet dangling off the bed. He placed his hands awkwardly either side of her thighs for balance all to aware of the space, or distinct lack of it, between them. Clara's arms tightened around his neck. "It's not your fault," she said quietly, "you couldn't have known he was here." "I shouldn't have left you in the first place." He argued. "You had to. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? I'm shaken, yes, but fine. Just don't leave me like that again." "I won't." He promised, kissing her forehead. She smiled. "Good. Speaking of you leaving, that New New Earth place. What did you do?" The Doctor got the feeling that she was trying to change the subject to something a little less heavy. If only she knew. "It's New New New New Earth, actually." He corrected playfully. She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. "You knew what I meant. Now tell me what happened." "Yes, Miss." He teased her. He had missed their friendly banter. Clara scowled and wriggled out from his arms. "That's it. No more hugs for you until you tell me what you were doing." "Why? What do you think I was doing?" The Doctor made a grab for her but she scooted away from him, giggling. "I dunno." She replied, shrugging. "You tell me." The Doctor made a mock angry face at her and sat on the bed with his back to her. "C'mere, you." He growled, dragging her by her ankle towards him gently. She squealed and shook her leg free. "Nope. Not until you-" "Okay, Okay, you win." He gave in, flapping an arm in her direction. He could never last long in a fight against her. "I always do." He smiled briefly at her before staring down into his lap. How was he going to tell her about the results? He couldn't find the right words. How could anyone in this situation? As if she had sensed what he was thinking about Clara hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder, comforting him. "Whatever it is you can tell me," she whispered, "I won't judge." He placed one hand on her arm and rubbed it while he thought. Just tell her. "I took a sample of your blood to a hospital there. They ran some tests, found out what was wrong." He said finally, running the hand that wasn't occupied through his hair. "And?" Clara prompted. He sighed. "There's no cure for what he infected you with." The Doctor felt Clara freeze behind him. He turned around and pulled her into his lap, resting her head on his chest while rubbing her back in circles. "We have the best doctor working on the case, but..." He sighed again as Clara looked up at him. Tears rolled slowly over her cheekbones and left tracks streaked down her face. Oh, Clara. He took her oxygen mask off and unplugged it from the tank. She reached out for it but he held her back. "You don't need it anymore," he told her as he removed one hand to brush away her tears. Clara nodded. "I know. It's just that it was kind of reassuring." He dropped a kiss into her hair then continued to rub her back. He could feel some of the muscles were rock hard with tension and so he massaged them until she relaxed into his hand. To be honest, Clara wasn't freaking out as much as he thought she would. In a way, it worried him. Shouldn't she be having a breakdown by now? Then again, that might have just been him overreacting. He couldn't expect her to act to the same extreme that he had. Still... He pinched her chin lightly between his thumb and fore finger, lifting it so he could see her properly. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. She nodded slowly. "I think so." "Sure?" "Yep." She turned her face back into his chest. "It seems surreal, like its just a bad dream and I'll wake up and it will be Wednesday, you banging my door down to take me away." The Doctor smiled sadly at her. "I wish." Clara sighed then buried her face into her hands. "Oh God," she all but wailed, "what are we going to tell my Dad? He's already lost my mum and-" "Shhh, calm down." The Doctor told her. "We'll tell him when you're ready, OK?" "We?" She half gaped at him. "Yes, we. Why, do you not want me? Here, I mean." He cursed himself for his slip up, but she didn't seem to notice. "I thought that now I'm ill that you wouldn't, you know...want me onboard." She said in a rush. The Doctor frowned. "Of course I want you onboard. We can't go travelling for a while though, not until you're feeling better." Clara grinned. "Fine by me." "While we're on the subject of you feeling better, I have some medicine for you," he said, producing a paper bag from his pocket. "I thought you said that there wasn't a cure?" "No, there isn't." He dropped a couple of the round grey tablets into a glass and filled it with bottled water one handed. "These slow it down. Drink up." He passed her the cup and she gulped it down, pulling a face. "Tastes disgusting. Figures." The Doctor laughed and took the cup from her, placing it next to the note and soufflé. Clara yawned. "Tired?" Clara nodded. "Off to bed with you then." "I seem to spend most of my time in bed nowadays." she grumbled. "You need to rest so the medicine can work." The Doctor said sternly. He gently pulled the tubes out of her arm and she gasped. "Clara?" She waved a hand. "It's OK, I'm fine. Just feels a little weird without them." She tapped her elbow. "Well, if you're sure..." "I am." She yawned again. "Sorry." He laughed and picked her up, moving her back up the bed to her pillows and tucking her in. "Good night." He whispered, pulling the duvet up to her chin and kissing her head. She shifted under his touch and mumbled something to him that he didn't quite catch. He waited a few seconds so if it was important she could say it again, but she said nothing. He shrugged to himself, walking away. If it was important she'd tell him when she awoke. The Doctor was almost to the end of the bed when a pair of fingers brushed his wrist, making him pause. "Don't go." He turned around to look at Clara, forcing himself to remain cool and collected, when in reality he was throwing a mini party in his head. Clara was sat bolt upright, one hand outstretched for his. He took it immediately, his other hand grabbing his chair and setting it down next to where she was laying. "I-I- you don't have to-" Clara face flushed with embarrassment. "It's OK, Clara, really. Of course I'll stay." He sat down, taking her hand in both of his. She smiled and burrowed back into the bed. "Thank you." "Anytime." He traced nonsensical patterns into her hand as she fell asleep. He had no idea what he was doing, but judging by the contented look on Clara's face she seemed to like it. He leaned forward onto his elbows and a strip of black ink on Clara's arm caught his eye. He frowned, pushing back the duvet to expose a row of Gallifreyan symbols. Gallifreyan symbols that spelt the name of the man that the Doctor now hated the most. Fenric. A/N So you finally know who it is! I'm guessing that most of you don't know who he is, so for you guys, heres a website (basically, its Wikipedia Doctor Whoified) with the history on just who the hell this really evil guy is and why he's got it in for the Doctor (because to explain it all on here would take at least another ten chapters): wiki/Fenric -Jazz 


	9. Chapter 9- Secrets and Burdens

Clara woke up the next morning feeling ridiculously happy. She lay there in the soft sheets of the bed for a moment, a huge grin on her face, enjoying the sensation. It felt like ages since she had last been this at peace. Three days to be precise. She supposed it was down to three things: 1. She felt miles better than the day before. That medicine the Doctor had brought her had really done the trick; all of her aches, pains and general sickness had subsided. Clara was buzzing with pent-up energy. 2. The man had left. For good. 3. The third, and probably most likely reason for her unusually good mood, was that her hand was still firmly encased by the Doctor's own. So tightly, in fact, that her whole arm had pins and needles from lack of circulation. Clara pushed herself up onto one elbow and wiggled her fingers in a half-hearted attempt to dislodge the Doctor without waking him. As much as she enjoyed the feeling of his large hands holding her own she did have things to do today, none of which included lazing around in bed with a numb hand that was likely to drop off any second. "Doctor," she hissed, shaking her hand more violently than before. She winced as the pins and needles increased. Her entire arm felt like a rubber flipper. The Doctor shifted in his seat at the sound of her voice and tugged her hand even closer to him, jerking Clara in such a way that she was now hanging on her front over the edge of the bed, face inches from his knee. Great. Clara swung herself sideways out of the bed awkwardly, overbalancing a touch and narrowly missing the Doctor's lap. She grabbed his shoulder and righted herself quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. That could have gone much worse. Or better. Her subconscious reminded her. You could have fallen into his lap... Clara ignored her and instead prised her hand out of the Doctor's own. It took some doing; for a skinny man the Doctor was deceptively strong, his grip increasing every time Clara created a gap in his hold. Eventually she resorted to slipping a rolled up blanket from her bed into the space where her hand was, ducking out of the way from him in the few brief seconds that the change over took place. Clara massaged the feeling back into her arm as the Doctor moved restlessly in his chair. When he didn't wake up Clara tip toed around his sleeping figure and slipped out of the med bay, leaving the door ajar so she knew which one it was to go back to. The corridors of the TARDIS looked exactly the same and no matter how many times the Doctor bothered to show her around Clara could never remember where anything was. Apart from her room, which was where she was headed. Clara padded down the corridor cautiously. She really needed to shower. She felt unclean, like all of the misfortunes of the past few days had clung to her like dirt. Her skin itched constantly and she scratched her arms as she searched for her room. It took her a while to find it but when she did she hesitated outside of the familiar metal door, hand resting against the button in the wall next to it. Something felt different. She shuddered, goosebumps forming on her arms. In appearance everything was the same. The grey metal of the walls, the pipes that ran above her head, her name engraved into the door with the Gallifreyan, written by the Doctor's own hand, on the plaque underneath. She hadn't wanted it initially but the Doctor had insisted. The gesture touched her, but it reminded her too much of her Time Lord self for her to be entirely at ease with the idea. Every time she passed it the symbols had made her body stiffen, as if it was remembering some event that was too much for her brain to let her see. However that feeling disappeared when, wandering around the TARDIS one day, she had stumbled across some ex-companions' old rooms and had been surprised to see that none of them had the same plaque with their name on it. That, coupled with how the Doctor would run his fingers over the runes with a smile every time he saw them, erased any uneasiness Clara had felt about them. If her Doctor was happy, so was she. Clara pulled her mind back to the present and opened the door, shrugging off the sense of foreboding as she stepped onto the white carpet of her small but comfortable bedroom. She took a look around to check for any differences from her last visit but everything was exactly where she left it. Clara scolded herself for being so jumpy and grabbed a towel from the cupboard next to her wardrobe. She was still wound up from the after effects of the testing facility, her imagination running wild with scenarios of what the man would think to do to her next. Now that Clara knew that the TARDIS was no shield when it came to him she was almost constantly afraid that he would pop up when she least expected it. All the more reason for me to take a shower, she thought. I can wash away the pain of the last few days and relax. Think things through. Clara still had no idea how she was going to break the news to her Dad. She could already picture his reaction in her head- the disbelief, then shock and finally tears as he came to terms with it all again. She knew that this would shatter him into tiny pieces, losing his only daughter. It would be her Mother all over again, only this time there would be nobody to pull him through the other side of his grieving. Maybe I should take the Doctor with me to meet him. That way they could help each other out. Clara went through to her en suite bathroom pulling the light cord as she set her things on the floor. The room was a modest size, just large enough to fit a bath tub and a separate shower cubicle. The floor tiles were a clean white, the walls a red and white check carrying on the theme of her bedroom. The Doctor had wanted to make it just as lavish as her bedroom but she had refused on the grounds that she hated him spending so much money on her (he had decorated both rooms himself, with materials he had bought from B&Qs. Clara had tried to dissuade him as the TARDIS was more than happy to build it herself but the Doctor had insisted, saying that it added a 'personal' touch. In the end Clara let him, retreating to the library as the Doctor had wanted it to be a surprise). He had grumbled initially, but cheered up when she promised to stay over for a week once it had been completed. When it was he had rushed to the swimming pool where she had been practising her diving skills. *Flashback * "Done!" the Doctor beamed at Clara exuberantly, flinging his paint brush triumphantly into the pot on the floor next to him. In his hurry to get to Clara he had forgotten to put it down, instead rushing through the corridor, paint slopping over the rim and onto the TARDIS floor. He hadn't even bothered to take off his overalls. "I can't hear you!" Clara yelled across the pool on the top diving board. The Doctor eyed her cautiously, more than slightly nervous at how high up she was. He had never seen Clara dive before and had a bad feeling that it was not going to go well. Not at that height. "Can you come down?" the Doctor shouted. Clara leaned over the rail, frustrated. The pool between them was warping their voices beyond recognition. She could only hear a soft burble where there should be clear sounds coming from the Doctor's mouth. "I'm coming down!" She shouted, miming diving at him. "Hang on!" She took a run up and launched herself off the edge, turning a somersault. She hit the water at a slight angle, but otherwise it was one of her best dives to date. She surfaced, grinning at the Doctor's awe struck expression. She swam over to him and pulled herself out of the pool. "If you don't stop gawping soon you'll catch flies." Clara teased, reaching around him to get her towel from the side. The Doctor flushed as she wrapped herself in the towel. "I was not gawping!" He said indignantly. Clara raised an eyebrow at him. The Doctor waved an arm at the bikini she was wearing under the towel. "And anyway, you're the one diving in a extremely small bikini into a pool that we both use!" "So? I am allowed to wear a bikini you know. Unless, of course, you find it too distracting. In which case I can always take it off." Clara fought to keep the smile off her face as the Doctor squirmed in front of her. He was unusually inexperienced with women for a thousand year old alien, something that Clara liked to use against him. It was kind of adorable watching him struggle to cope when she flirted. "No! I- I- I didn't-" He stuttered, setting the paint pot by his feet and ripping off the apron. Clara just stood there, arms folded. "Oh yes you did." "You cheeky little-" The Doctor threw an unprepared Clara over his shoulder and jogged out of the pool and down the corridor. "Hey! You can't just kidnap me!" Clara pounded her fists on his back. Of all the reactions she had imagined, she hadn't quite expected one like this. "Watch me!" the Doctor shot back, tightening his grip round her waist and hefting her higher on his shoulder. "For a small girl, you ain't half heavy." he complained, panting. Clara cuffed him round the back of the head. "Do you want to live to see your next regeneration?" The Doctor didn't answer. Clara rested her chin on her hand, feeling a little like Princess Fiona from Shrek. Although, the Doctor's more like Donkey than Shrek, Clara smiled to herself. "Where are we going anyway?" She asked, bored. They'd been travelling for ten minutes and her stomach was beginning to ache. "The bedroom." Came the Doctor's reply. "You what?" "Your bedroom." The Doctor repeated. "I finished it earlier. Its the whole reason I got you." "Oh." "Why? What did you think I meant?" Clara couldn't see his face from her position, but she could imagine the smug smile he was wearing. "Nothing." She said quickly. Too quickly. The Doctor chuckled. "Liar." The Doctor accused. "Am not!" Clara argued back childishly. "Are too." The Doctor flipped her so she was now lying in his arms bridle style. "Look at those cheeks," he taunted, pinching one between his thumb and fore finger, "They're like tomatoes." Clara clamped her hands over the cherry red of her face. "Shut up." The Doctor laughed and kissed the hand covering her cheek. Clara went even redder. "Thought so." "Here we are," the Doctor halted outside her door and let her out of his arms. Clara looked away from him and adjusted her towel, trying to preserve what was left of her tattered dignity. She walked towards the door but before she could get too far the Doctor pulled her back to him, covering her eyes with his hands. "Let me." he said, opening the door and gently guiding her inside. Clara took baby steps, her bare feet bouncing on the fluffy carpet as the Doctor led her into position. "Okay. You can look." His hands left her eyes and arm. Clara cracked open one eye, half afraid of what she would see. The Doctor didn't strike her as the sort of person that was good at DIY, so this could be...interesting. "Wow. This is just...wow." Clara said in awe. She opened the other eye and took a good look around. Three of the four walls were made of brick, the remaining one on the right hand side painted a deep red. Framed paintings covered the walls, each one depicting an adventure her and the Doctor had had. The carpet was white and fluffy, the ceiling slanted downward to the left. The bed took up most of the room, a circular king-size strewn with cushions. Other bits of furniture were placed around the room; a chest of drawers; a wardrobe; a desk with a chair and brand new laptop ready to use. Book cases that stretched from floor to ceiling leant against a section of the wall filled with first editions of her favourite novels. A second door led off into a small en suite bathroom, and a window across from her was flung open, the simulated summer breeze in the TARDIS causing the crimson curtains to flutter. Clara stood there and gaped at it all. It was the perfect mix of her old room at the Maitland's, her new room in her apartment and her childhood one that her Mother would sing her to sleep in. It was everything she wanted, and more. Her life with a little of the Doctor's thrown in. A pair of arms embraced her in a hug. Clara relaxed into it, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Do you like it?" The Doctor asked softly. "Like it? I love it! It's beautiful, all of it. Thank you." The Doctor kissed the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "No problem. Anything for you." *end of flashback* Clara shook herself out of her thoughts and quickly undressed, stepping under the scalding hot water of the shower. She really had to stop zoning out like that. It was bad enough being physically ill without going insane from living in the past as well. She applied shower gel to her skin and scrubbed furiously, removing at least three layers of skin and shampooed her hair repeatedly until it squeaked when she ran her fingers through it. She was determined to remove every last inch of the man's influence on her, right down to yesterday's make up which was currently draining down the plug hole. She rubbed at her face a bit with a flannel to speed along the process but otherwise let the water do most of the work, watching steam from the water condense on her mirror. The water pressure pounded at her sore muscles, undoing the knots that had returned after the Doctor had stopped massaging her last night. Hmm. He was good at that, mused Clara, remembering the way his hands had glided across her skin. I'll have to get him to do that again sometime. She remained in the shower for half an hour longer until her skin pruned, unwilling to get out and face the cold light of day. She was scared that the Doctor would change his mind, now that he had had time to think things through, and he would just drop her off at a hospital and leave her there rather than wait for her to die. Because Clara knew that that was what was going to happen. There was no cure for what she had, and the drugs she was taking would only suppress it for so long. She would die, slowly, most probably painfully, and never tell the Doctor how she felt. How could she when she knew that, even he did love her, she would die and leave him alone, grieving for what could have been, what might have happened had she survived? It would kill him, she knew that much. KnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnock. "Clara? Clara you in there?" The Doctor's voice, panicked and worried, drifted through the door. Clara turned off the shower and securely tucked the towel around her. "Yeah!" Clara called back, unlocking the door. "Give me two-" Before Clara could complete her sentence the Doctor barrelled in the unlocked door, sweeping her up into a hug that squished all the breath from her in one big whoosh. "Good morning to you too." Gasped Clara as the Doctor spun them around, still hugging. "Don't you ever do that to me again." The Doctor told her, burying his face in her wet hair. "Do what?" Whispered Clara. "Leave me like that. I thought that-that-Fenric had-" He held her even tighter. "Wait," Clara wriggled out of his grasp and forced him to look at her. "Who's Fenric?" The Doctor scowled. "Nobody that you need to worry about. I'll take care of him." "Oh no you don't." Clara grabbed the Doctor by the arm and pushed him onto the bed. He tried to get up again but Clara shoved him back down. "You don't get to do this anymore." "Do what?" Clara crossed her arms, matching his scowl with one her own. "Keep things from me like this." The Doctor rose from the bed, standing chest to chest with her. Or head to chest, if you're Clara. "Some secrets," he said firmly, "have to stay that way." Clara flung her hands into the air. "Why? Why can't you tell me? I have a right to know about Fenric, and why he did these things to me!" "No. Not him you don't." He took her face in his hands. "Clara, there are things that I have seen, enemies that I have fought, people that I have been, that I never want you to have the burden of knowing about. Some things are best left un said." Clara covered his hands with her own. "But what if I want that burden? What if I want to help you carry it?" He shook his head sadly. "It would destroy you, in the end. Just like it has me." "I could fix you." "Oh, you could try. But you would fail." "You don't know that." The Doctor sighed, shoulders slumping. "I don't deserve you." he said quietly. Clara let that one slide. "Whether or not you deserve me- and I think you do- I still need to know about Fenric. What if he takes me again? What will I do? I need to know what he is capable of." The Doctor's features hardened and he dropped his hands from her face. "He will not get to you again. Not while I'm still breathing." "But, Doctor-" Clara was losing this battle. Badly. There were holes everywhere, and her ship was going down. It was time to get a bucket and bail herself out. "I. Do. Not. Care. I will not put your life in danger just because you have some wild idea in your primitive, insignificant human head that you can somehow fix a thousand years of broken hearts." Ouch. That hurt. Clara looked at him in shock. Her Doctor would never say something like that, not if it would hurt her. But the angry, wounded man standing in front of her was not her Doctor. "Okay then." She said, taking a few steps back from him, heart aching from his words and the distance between them. "Take me home." "Take you where?" "You heard me. Home. I. Want. To. Leave." Clara narrowed her eyes into slits. The Doctor swallowed. She saw something flicker in his eyes- hurt? Love? Hatred?- but it soon passed. "Okay." He nodded. "I'll take you tomorrow." Oh no, Chinboy. You're not getting off that easily. He marched off to the door, Clara in tow. She grabbed him by the collar and tugged none too gently, causing him to fall backwards. She took advantage of this and planted herself in front of her door. "Not tomorrow. Now. I want to leave now." The Doctor towered above her, glowering at her. "You make me so angry." He growled. Clara stood there, trying her best to look stern when really all she felt like doing was melting into a puddle of tears at his feet. She made him angry? What was that supposed to mean? Clara opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but he waved her off before she even began. "Fine, I'll take you." He rummaged in his pockets and slammed her medicine and another bottle of water on her dresser. "You'll need these. Next dose in half an hour." He said gruffly. "Now will you please move out of my way?" Clara didn't hear him. He was actually going to do it. He was going to drop her off on Earth and forget about her, like he had done to so many others before. Hadn't their time together meant anything to him? The bedroom he built, swimming on the moon, chasing monsters across galaxies, the close friendship that Clara had thought that they shared... had it all been some game to him? She had sacrificed herself millions of times over for him, she was going to die, again, for him, and here he was dumping her on Earth. So much for love. Clara was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the Doctor picking her up and moving her away from the door, lingering a little too long when he set her down than strictly necessary. She didn't notice the tears silently rolling down his cheek, or the desolate look in his eye as he took one last glance at her on the floor. She felt broken, cold and alone, the one man that could fix her the person that had shattered her in the first place. The door slammed shut behind the Doctor. Clara stared at the wall as the time rotors started wheezing, taking her to the one place she dreaded to be the most. 


	10. Chapter 10- Stupid In Love

The Doctor wearily trudged up the stairs up to the main console. The TARDIS hummed around him, the time rotors sliding smoothly up and down. He hadn't actually set course for Earth just yet; he was still hoping that Clara would come around to his way of thinking. He knew he had hurt her badly. The moment the words had come out of his mouth he had regretted them. The Doctor didn't want to push her away, far from it: he needed her in his life. That tiny, fiery, beautiful human girl had turned his world on its head the day she demanded to be rescued from the Asylum. The rest, as they say, was history. As was their tattered friendship, the one relationship that the Doctor valued above all others. The Doctor rested his elbows on the console and gazed at the TARDIS sadly. He would wait for her, he decided. Clara would come to the console room in her own time, and they would talk. He would explain it to her properly this time, everything, why he could never tell her about his past. Maybe if he was honest she might forgive him. But then again, she might not show up until the TARDIS landed and even then may not want to talk to him. If that happened the Doctor had no idea what to do. He couldn't force Clara to stay on board, but he could not, would not, risk her walking straight into one of Fenric's traps. If Clara returned to her apartment she would be exposed to Fenric, and the Doctor would rather face another planetfull of insane Daleks than the possibility of Clara being recaptured. First minutes, then hours passed. The Doctor sat on the stairs watching the door closest to Clara's room, willing the brunette to show her face. Every second to him was agony. He came close to going after her multiple times, getting as far as the door before spinning on his heel and walking away. He wanted to go after her but had a feeling that she wouldn't want him there with her. As much as it killed him to he knew he had to give her time. Two more hours later, and the Doctor was getting seriously worried. It had been four hours, twenty minutes and fifteen seconds since he had last seen Clara. Now, the Doctor was new to the whole 'space' thing when it came to Clara but he was sure when somebody didn't show their face for four hours that something was wrong. He had tried simulating the TARDIS landing in an attempt to coax Clara out of her room to no avail. The Doctor had had enough. He was going after her. *** Clara flung clothes haphazardly into the suitcase, legs of jeans and arms of shirts and jumpers hanging over the edge. She didn't care how screwed up they got. To tell the truth, she didn't care about a lot anymore. She was leaving and that was that. The Doctor and all the trouble that he brought with him was not her problem anymore. She could go home to her friends and family and live out the time she had left with people that she loved. Not that she didn't love the Doctor, she had just realised that he would never love her back. She should have seen it coming, really. Lots of other women had travelled with the Doctor in the TARDIS and at least one of them must have made a move on him at some point. She couldn't have been the first, but she hoped, for his future companions' sake, that she was the last. Falling in love with a thousand year old alien was disastrous for everyone involved, and would only end in heartbreak and tears from both parties. Why, why, why had she let herself come to this? If she had stopped herself from loving him all of this could have easily been avoided. But she had had to ruin it all, hadn't she? Like she always did. Clara threw the last item of clothing into her case and slammed it shut, zipping it then securing it with a pad lock. The suitcase itself was very small; Clara never bothered to keep more than two or three sets if clothes in the TARDIS unless they were planning on a weekend visit to a particular planet. If she ever needed anything that she had forgotten to pack she used the TARDIS wardrobe. Luckily they hadn't been on a weekend away together for quite some time so the case was light and fairly easy to drag along behind her at speed, which was lucky as she didn't really fancy asking the Doctor to pull it for her. She was on her way to becoming independent from him and in her eyes asking him to help would be a step backwards from her goal. Clara put her hands on her hips and surveyed her handiwork, nodding once before extending the handle on her suitcase and making her way to the door. She was almost there when a frantic knocking sounded on the other side. Clara paused and closed her eyes, counting slowly to ten in the hope that the Doctor would get the message and leave. No such luck. The Doctor rapped his knuckles urgently on the door again. "Clara. I need to talk to you." His voice, low and regretfull, came muffled through the door. Clara laid her palm on the metal, secretly adoring the vibrations that rumbled through it before snatching her hand back, scolding herself for her moment of weakness. "No." Clara whispered back. Then, more force fully, "No more talking." "Clara, please, I'll do anything I swear. I don't want to say goodbye to you, not yet." Tendrils of warmth spread through her, rooting in her heart before she could stop them. Was the Doctor pleading with her? Did he need her like she needed him? Clara shook her head. Of course he didn't. He never had and never will. She was replacable, just another girl in his endless line that the TARDIS used to torment her with. Once she was gone he would find another to toy with. If the rational part of her brain was in charge she would have left a long time ago. Unfortunately, her love-addled side had a tendency to completely take over in situations like these, especially when it concerned the Doctor. Clara forced herself to be strong and not fall into one of the Doctor's or, indeed, her own traps. "Will you tell me about Fenric?" "Clara..." "Then I can't trust you. How can I when you hide so much from me? I want to travel with you, I want to help you, but I can't do that if you constantly shy away from me like this." There was a long silence from the Doctor, so long that Clara was afraid that he had gone to drop her off. She rested her forehead against the cool metal of the door and slid her palms up, imagining that he was doing the same on the other side. Oddly it seemed to comfort her, thinking of him in the same position that she was, leaning on the door as if they could collapse straight through into each others arms. "Yes." the Doctor answered after an unbearably long period of time had elapsed. Clara lifted her head from the door. "Yes, I'll tell you about Fenric. But on one condition." "Which is...?" "Don't push me like this about my past. I'll tell you in my own time, if I am to tell you." Clara pursed her lips but nodded before realising that the Doctor couldn't see her and answering with a yes. Clara wasn't sure, but she swore she heard the Doctor breathe a sigh of relief. "Meet me in the kitchen in ten. We have a lot to talk about, and I have a feeling we will need lots of tea." "I'll be there." she promised him, dragging her suitcase over to her wardrobe and beginning to unpack. As she started to hang her clothes back up she felt a smile creep up her features. The problem was far from solved and hell they had a lot of problems to work through, a millennium of them in truth, but Clara couldn't help but feel that the Doctor's problems, now hers as well by choice, were well on their way to being solved. A/N Thank you to everybody who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story :) I can't work out how to reply on here yet, but I do read every comment and it really lifts my spirits to see so many people enjoying it :) I work mainly on Wattpad, but I am trying to divide my time more equally so I should find my way around this site soon (Fingers crossed). See Ya! -Jazz 


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